


A Cold Morning

by Sethrial



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Addiction, Drug Use, Not Canon Compliant, from someone who has listened to less than a quarter of the podcast, h/c, spec fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22101556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sethrial/pseuds/Sethrial
Summary: Caleb has a hard night. Mollymauk makes his morning so much worse.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I'm on episode twelve of this podcast and got a writing bug up my ass. I have no idea who these characters are yet, in spite of listening to over forty hours of them talk, so forgive me if this doesn't fit with what happens in later episodes. I just felt the urge to make Caleb cry and it turned out decently, so I wanted to post it.

“Caleb, Caleb, c’mon. Don’t be dead, now. Not after I came all this way.” 

“Did we win?” Caleb mumbled. His tongue felt thick and dry, and he didn’t taste blood like he usually did when someone was tapping, slapping really, him awake after a fight. 

“No, no I don’t think we did, this time.” 

The sounds of people coughing and moaning, the smell of stale sweat and ash, and the cold, jittery feeling of starting to come down hit him all at once and he groaned. He cracked one eye and got a glimpse of Mollymauk leaning down over him before he had to shut it again to block out the light.

“There we are. Good morning, princess. How do you feel?” 

“Fantastic,” he snapped. “Go away.”

“That’s a fine way to greet a friend, and after all the trouble I went to tracking you down when you didn’t come home last night! You could have died in this pit. I would be a little more grateful, if I were you.” 

“I would have been fine. They know me here,” Caleb grumbled. 

“Good to know,” Molly said. “So you’re definitely a repeat customer, then?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Nope. Not a chance. I’m taking you home, and you have the walk back to the tavern to come up with a good story about where you were last night. Can you stand?” 

“I’ll be fine in a couple hours, and I will come home then. Now seriously,  _ fuck off.”  _

Molly sighed. “I didn’t want to have to do this. Yasha!” he yelled down the hall. “I’ve found him!” 

“Alive?” she called back, walking up the stairs with the establishment’s proprietor following her, sputtering protests. 

“Definitely alive. Decent health, poor spirits. Would you like to give me a hand?” 

“I think that can be arranged,” she said. 

Caleb was lifted out of the filthy bedroll he’d spent the night in and thrown over her broad shoulders like a sack of flour. His stomach rolled and he swallowed down bile, desperately not wanting to end what had been a wonderful night by throwing up on one of the six people in the world who pretended to care about him. 

“You’re not taking him anywhere,” the building’s owner stood between them and the stairs, puffing himself up to look more intimidating. “Not until I get my gold.” 

“What’s he owe for the night?” Molly asked. 

“Ten gold.” 

“The deal was five, last night,” Caleb slurred. He tried to ragdoll his way back to the ground, to solve this problem like an adult, but Yasha held him in place and all he managed to do was flop his head to one side. 

“Deals change.” 

“Deals  _ do  _ change,” Molly agreed in the performance voice, and Caleb muttered a curse. Of course he was doing the performance voice. “So here’s the new deal. We give you five gold, you forget you saw us, and we don’t tell the Crown Guard what we found in this lovely establishment.” 

“And rat yourself out? You’re bluffing.” 

“I have nothing to hide, here. Yasha and I could pass a piss test, and Caleb can disappear as easily as snapping his fingers. How many of your other customers can pull a trick like that, hmm? How many of  _ your loyal junkies _ jailed over  _ five gold _ ?” 

“Who’s goin’ t’ jail?” a woman on another bedroll mumbled from near Yasha’s feet. 

“No one, love. Just relax,” Molly said. 

The owner spat. “Fuckin’ teifling,” he swore. 

“Yup. Fuckin’ teifling, keeping you honest.” 

“Fine. Five gold and I never see any of you fuckers again.” 

_ “Perfect.”  _ Molly snarled, edging toward an infernal accent. “That was my other request.” 

Yasha hefted Caleb higher on her shoulders and he choked and passed out again. When he came back to himself they were outside in the bright morning light. His friends were strolling and ignoring stares like they didn’t have an unconscious man dragged along with them, talking quietly between themselves. 

“-others will see this in as generous a light as we do. We might have to sneak him in. How subtle do you think you can be, getting into the tavern?” Molly was asking. 

“How subtle do  _ you  _ think I could be,” Yasha asked sarcastically, seven feet tall and carrying someone nearly as big.

“Fair point. Where else could we take him to wait this out? Bath house?” 

“You think they’ll let him in?” 

Molly shrugged. “I don’t know. My plan extended as far as finding him, hopefully alive. I’m making the rest up as we speak. Steam’s Respite has been unusually accepting of our various… weirdness. The worst they can say is no, right?” 

Yasha glanced back at Caleb and their eyes met for a moment. Unknowable depths vs bloodshot and struggling to stay open. “Right,” she nodded. 

“Hey, hi, hello,” Molly did the talking and Yasha tried to look any less conspicuous, standing back a few feet toward the entrance of the bath house, freshly open for its morning business. “I don’t suppose your steam room is open yet, is it?” 

“It… is. Andre is just finishing getting the coals hot, and we can start the steam any time. Do you need… Is he okay?” she looked past him to Caleb, still draped over Yasha’s shoulders. 

“Drunker than he wants to be, had a rough night,” Molly explained flippantly. “I’m trying to get him cleaned up a bit before we take him home to the missus. He just needs to sweat it out a bit, and then we’ll be out of your hair. How much for the steam room?” 

“Two silver per person per hour. Are you sure? He looks half dead.” 

“He’s a bloody lightweight who lost a drinking contest. It’s a wonder he’s not dead, honestly,” Molly played along. “Now, that’s six silver an hour? I think we can manage that.” 

Caleb was starting to shiver. He could have been in a nice, warm bedroll, somewhere dark and quiet where no one would bother him. Instead he was being dragged around the cold morning air, halfway across the city, and now they wanted him to sit and sweat it out? Were they insane?

“If he pukes, it’s an extra charge,” the receptionist warned. 

“He’ll be fine, looks worse than he is,” Molly brushed her off. “How about two hours for the three of us, and if we stay longer I’ll pay the difference on the way out.” 

“I’ve marked down what time you got here,” the receptionist said. 

“Absolutely fair. Which way to the steam room?” 

“Changing rooms are the last door on the right, steam room is the one before that.” 

“Thank you ever so much. Yasha?” 

“Got him. C’mon Caleb. Let’s get you somewhere warm.” 

The cold air hit him like a shocking grasp when they stripped him out of his coat and shirt, and Caleb doubled over to ride it out. Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ This was not what he signed up for when he went out last night. Yasha kept him from collapsing and Molly ripped his boots off unceremoniously, tossed them into a pile with his coat and shirt, then started on his pants. 

“Fuck you,” Caleb tried to kick him and managed to move his leg, at least. Then he lost his balance and sagged in Yasha’s grip. 

“Yeah, fuck me. Not trying to make this any easier or anything. Or would you rather wait this out outside in an alley somewhere?” Molly asked. He got Caleb’s pants off and had Yasha drape him over a bench while they got out of their own clothes. 

“I was fine. You could have just left me. I would have been fine.” 

“Tonight, maybe. Next time, probably. But eventually  _ something  _ would have happened, and then what?” 

“I can handle myself,” Caleb snapped. 

“Of course you can,” Yasha said. 

“I  _ can.”  _ Even to his own ears, he sounded like a petulant child. 

“Until you can’t. Then what?” 

Caleb forced himself upright to glare at them. 

“Then I have to explain to the others why you didn’t come home,” Molly said, calm, not accusatory. “I have to explain to Nott why you’re never coming back, why you left her alone.” There it was, all that guilt, crashing down all at once. 

“Don’t,” Caleb rasped, and heaved. He got it under control with a shudder and half a grit out sob. 

“Let’s get him warmed up,” Molly said to Yasha. “It’s only going to get worse.” 

“Just stop,” he begged.

“No.” 

“ _ Stop.”  _

“I’m not leaving you alone right now, so stow it,” Molly said with finality. 

They each grabbed him under an arm and dragged him one door over, through a short, freezing hallway and into somewhere blessedly warm and full of steam. An attendant threw another ladle of water on hot coals and hurried out while they found seats on a bench and got as comfortable as they could, under the circumstances. Yasha and Molly sat on either side of Caleb and held him upright and still while he shivered and started to sweat. It was… better. Not much, not great, but sweating it out with people he knew was better than freezing and shaking his way through the come down alone. 

“There we are. Try to relax.” A clawed hand brushed the sweaty hair off his forehead and to one side. 

He breathed in steam and breathed out pain in deep, ragged gasps. This was bad, worse than it ever had been before. What the fuck had that bastard cut it with? He felt like he was choking on his own tongue, like the air was too thick to swallow and he was seconds from drowning. 

“Hey, stay with me.” Molly was tapping his face again, keeping him present, keeping him awake.

Caleb rolled his eyes over to look at him. “You’re a bastard,” he slurred. 

“I’m not the one who put you like this, you know.” 

“You could have left me.” 

“I honestly, genuinely couldn’t have. Yes, you probably would have survived, but if you hadn’t, if your body were tossed out on the street today, how could I possibly live with myself knowing I found you and left you there to die? How would I explain to our friends where I last saw you and in what state? What would they think of me?” 

“Shut. Up.” Caleb grit out. His head hurt. His  _ teeth  _ hurt. He didn’t want to hear it, especially not right now. 

“Alright, I’ll save the monologue for later. You do have to stay awake though.” 

He fell asleep at some point, in spite of Molly’s best efforts, and woke up leaned on Yasha’s shoulder with Molly holding one of his hands. He put it down quickly, before Caleb was fully cognizant, and gave him a rough shoulder to the ribs to wake him the rest of the way up. 

“How do we feel?” 

“Better. I think that was the worst of it,” Caleb tried in vain to get his hair out of his eyes. He was soaked in sweat, sitting in a puddle of it on the smooth wooden bench. Not that Yasha and Molly were much better. He had never seen his hair so frizzy, and her pale skin was very nearly pink from the heat. “What time is it?” 

“Not a bloody clue. We’ve been here maybe three hours.” 

“Closer to three and a half,” Yasha said. 

“Scheisse,” Caleb swore. It was nearly noon, then. He hadn’t been home in almost 24 hours. 

“You think that’s bad, we’ve been up all night trying to find you. At least you got a couple naps in,” Molly said. 

“If you want to go home and sleep you can. I can find my own way back.” 

Molly shook his head. “Nope. We’re talking about this. This isn’t the first time you’ve been out all night. Same thing every time, or did you just get a craving to destroy yourself tonight?” 

“It’s not… It isn’t like that.” 

“‘Cause let me tell you, you looked real comfortable on the floor back there, real familiar with the whole song and dance of it.” 

“It’s really not that big a deal,” Caleb felt like he was under a magnifying glass, like Molly could see everything, and not just because they were inches from each other wearing nothing they weren’t born with. 

“I don’t think you understand. It is that big a deal, actually, because this isn’t Zemnia. This is the Empire, my friend, and the Empire doesn’t allow the free use of exotic alchemy by anyone who can afford half a pound of moon sugar and some glassware. There are  _ laws  _ here, genius.” He rapped Caleb on the temple with his knuckles. 

“I know that,” Caleb said defensively. “I know there are consequences if I am caught, for me and for the team. I always make sure I am alone. I get a room somewhere else, leave a paper trail that won’t lead back to all of you. If I go down, I go down alone.” 

“Fair thought, thanks for the consideration, but that’s really not the point I was aiming for with that little speech. Point being, and this is important, so listen closely, you  _ can’t get  _ the kind of high quality moon dust you buy on every street corner in Zemnia here in the glorious Empire, and you definitely can’t get it in a flop house in the slums. Everything interesting in this country was smuggled past a border or cooked in some backroom by an amateur in the middle of the night, and all of it is cut with something. You’re lucky that whatever you smoked back there didn’t kill you, because it was  _ not _ pure widowmaker in your pipe, my friend.” 

Caleb stared at his knees. He had known that, on some level. The nights weren’t as quiet and easy, the mornings after had never been that painful before, and he felt the ache of it for days afterwards these days, like bruises in his bones. He thought he was just getting older and his body couldn’t handle the abuse anymore. “Schiesse,” he breathed. 

“Welcome to the Empire. No fun allowed,” Molly said. 

“So what do I do?” he asked, not expecting an answer. If either of these two had ever been in his shoes he would eat his spellbook. They were young and their flames burned so brightly. Neither of them had ever been anywhere near rock bottom. 

“Different question. We’ll come back to that in a minute. What’s different now?” Molly asked. 

“How do you mean?” 

“You were fine in Trostenwald. No problems in Allfield. Then we get to Zadash and you go on three benders in two weeks. What changed?” 

Caleb laughed. Was he really that obvious? He thought he’d been subtle about this little problem. “I have money now.” 

“That’s really it?” Yasha asked. “Money is the only problem?” 

“I can afford five gold a night a couple times a week when I am making  _ a hundred gold a week _ . This is more money that I have ever, than I ever thought I would make in my life. I don’t know what to do with it all, and then my poison of choice is here, and I… slip. I stop thinking about what could go wrong and am so focused on what feels good, and it is less than a quarter of what I make working with all of you. I have money for my magic and for my habit, and to eat, and stay somewhere with a roof. I have never had that before.” Caleb stared down at the floor. He didn’t want to know what kind of face Molly was making, or Yasha. He could see Yasha’s hand tense on her thigh, and Molly’s hand was still on his back from where he was leaned forward on his knees to help mitigate the ache in his ribs. No one took the “by the way, I was a homeless junkie for a few years” talk well, and he wasn’t particularly interested in what exact mix of pity and contempt they were wearing. They could keep it to themselves as far as Caleb was concerned. 

“I could beat you up every time you get high,” Yasha offered. 

“Makes it much less fun, trust me,” Molly added. 

Caleb choked out a laugh. He couldn’t help it. 

“Or,” she started. 

“Or we could steal his coin purse and leave him high and dry. No money for drugs, no drugs, no problem.” 

“Nott gives me money when I ask for it. She always has plenty,” Caleb cut that idea off at the knees. “And also how would you explain that you two are robbing me to the rest of the group?” 

“Oh, we’re absolutely telling them where we found you this morning. Whole family gets to know what kind of demons you’re dealing with.” 

“Don’t.” Caleb went pale. “Don’t tell them. I can manage this without them knowing.” 

“Oh, and we have found our  _ motivation,”  _ Molly had no right to sound that delighted. 

“Please,” he begged. “I will do anything. Just keep this quiet.” 

Molly grinned with all his inhuman teeth. “Damn right you will.” 

“Please,” he whispered. 

“My,  _ our _ , silence is conditional on this being your final performance,” Molly announced, like he was the town crier of the empty steam room. “No more long nights out, no more disappearing for two days at a time, no more moon sugar or any of its wonderful, horrible derivatives. If you try this noise and nonsense one more time, it all comes out in front of everyone, the full monty, and we let them make their own decisions of what to do about it. Does that sound fair?” 

Caleb looked at him while he spoke and hung his head when Molly was done. 

“Sounds fair to me,” Yasha said.

“I hate you,” Caleb said without heat. He was more tired than anything. Everything hurt, and all he wanted in the world was to go home and go to bed. 

“The feeling is entirely mutual. Ready to go get rinsed off? You are truly disgusting right now.” 

“Fick dich.” 

“Love you too. C’mon. Think you can get up?” 


	2. A different view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ended up rewriting this from Molly's view. He's a fun one

Another slum, another flop house, another try. Mollymauk traced eyes up the crumbling two story building and hoped to be right. He was too old for hope, honestly, but that was one bad habit he’d never managed to break. He only had to be right once tonight, after all. He could spare a half second on hoping. 

Walk in like you own the place. Confident posture. Cold face. They don’t know you, they have nothing on you. “I’m looking for someone,” he told the fat, greasy man sitting next to the stairs with a pulp porn novel. “Tall. Red hair. Probably filthier than even your usual… patrons.” 

“What’d’ya want with him?” 

That was a yes if Molly had ever heard one. “Thank you kindly,” he tipped an imaginary hat and started to brush past him, up the stairs to where he could smell smoke. 

“Hey, you can’t-” 

Yasha kicked the man back into his chair. “Go ahead.” 

“What kind of fuckin’- ugh!” 

She kicked him again. That would keep them busy long enough for him to check. 

Upstairs was exactly what he expected, exactly what he’d seen a dozen times tonight. Bedrolls crammed together edge to edge in two rows on either side of a single narrow room. Char marks. Broken plaster. Stains that Molly didn’t want to consider. And there, in one corner jammed against the wall, a shock of dirty ginger hair half hidden by a sweat stained blanket. 

Please. Just a bit of luck. He knelt down and pulled the blanket back to see if he’d finally found what he’d been hunting down for the past seven hours. Caleb hadn’t come home with Nott just after midnight, again. Once was odd. Twice was coincidence. This was the third night in two weeks he’d stayed out all night alone, and that was enough of a pattern to get Molly’s hackles up. 

And there he was, Caleb fucking Widogast. What a stupid, dramatic, telltale name. Did he honestly think no one spoke Zemnian in this country? “Get up,” Molly snarled. 

Caleb didn’t move. He was pale and still as a corpse, mouth open on what passed for a pillow in this place, eyes closed. 

No. Fuck.  _ No.  _ He wasn’t dead. Just high. Just asleep. Molly tapped on his cheek with a claw. “Caleb. Caleb, wake up. Get up, you lazy bum.” 

“Shaddup,” someone grumbled from across the room. 

Caleb wasn’t moving. Was he breathing? Molly’s heart stuttered in his chest while he fumbled for a pulse in his throat. Anything. Anything at all. “Caleb, Caleb, c’mon. Don’t be dead, now. Not after I came all this way.” 

Caleb’s eye tensed shut and he shifted in place. “Did we win?” he mumbled. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. 

“No, no I don’t think we did, this time.” 

Molly recovered what he could of his composure while Caleb struggled awake and had nearly gotten his face back on by the time he cracked an eye and looked up at him. 

“There we are. Good morning, princess. How do you feel?” 

“Fantastic. Go away.” Caleb sneered and closed his eye again. 

“That’s a fine way to greet a friend, and after all the trouble I went to tracking you down when you didn’t come home last night! You could have died in this pit. I would be a little more grateful, if I were you.” He almost felt the bluster, that time. Lying to Caleb got easier and harder in cycles. Lying with his mouth, with words, easy as breathing. With every inch of him that wasn’t accustomed to shoveling horse shit and blowing smoke, it got harder every time he looked at him. 

“I would have been fine. They know me here,” 

Of course they did. He was far too comfortable, far too at ease in the filth and stink for this to be a one-time thing. “Good to know. So you’re definitely a repeat customer, then?” 

“Fuck off.” Eloquent, as always. 

“Nope. Not a chance. I’m taking you home, and you have the walk back to the tavern to come up with a good story about where you were last night. Can you stand?” 

“I’ll be fine in a couple hours, and I will come home then. Now seriously,  _ fuck off.”  _

Naturally, he was going to be difficult. Molly straightened up and looked around the room. He couldn’t carry someone six inches taller than him, even if that someone was made of twigs and paper, not for any length of time. But he was the brains of this nasty operation, not the brawn. “I didn’t want to have to do this. Yasha!” he yelled down the hall. “I’ve found him!” 

“Alive?” she called back, there was another thud and grunt, and she stomped up the stairs. 

“Definitely alive. Decent health, poor spirits. Would you like to give me a hand?” 

She looked down at him, and Molly felt her pain echo his. She wanted what he did, to get Caleb out of here, get him somewhere safe, fix this, save him. “I think that can be arranged.” Close to the chest, but by the care she used easing him up and onto her shoulders, she had the same ache in her that Molly did. 

“You’re not taking him anywhere. Not until I get my gold” 

Right. Him. The lord over all this dirty business would want payment for last night’s mistakes, wouldn’t he? Get your game face on, Tealeaf. It’s showtime. 

Molly turned around and smiled like he didn’t want to slit the man’s throat and be done with it. “What’s he owe for the night?” 

“Ten gold.” 

“The deal was five, last night,” Caleb mumbled. He started to fall and Yasha caught him before he could get too far. 

“Deals change.” 

“Deals  _ do  _ change.” Use this. Two steps ahead. What does this revolting human want, what does he fear, and how are they cards in your hand? “So, here’s the new deal. We give you five gold, you forget you saw us, and we don’t tell the Crown Guard what we found in this lovely establishment.”

“And rat yourself out? You’re bluffing.” 

“I have nothing to hide, here. Yasha and I could pass a piss test, and Caleb can disappear as easily as snapping his fingers. How many of your other customers can pull a trick like that, hmm? How many of  _ your loyal junkies _ jailed over  _ five gold _ ?” Believe it. Sell it. And don’t forget to smile. 

“Who’s goin’ t’ jail?” a woman on another bedroll asked, and a new crack appeared in Molly’s heart. No, focus. He could only fix one thing at a time. His hands were full with Caleb, the one he knew, the one he cared about. 

“No one, love. Just relax,” Molly said.

The owner spat. “Fuckin’ teifling,” he swore, and that was all Molly needed. Anything other than a no was as good as a yes in this business. 

“Yup. Fuckin’ teifling, keeping you honest.” 

“Fine. Five gold and I never see any of you fuckers again.” 

Oh lovely. He didn’t have to try to twist the human’s arm not to let his friend back in when he got another craving. Not that there weren’t a baker’s dozen dozen other places he could go in this city, but it was something.  _ “Perfect.”  _ Where did that snarl come from? He might have actually been angry, somewhere in there beneath all the masks. “That was my other request.” 

Caleb started to fall again and Yasha hitched him higher. He made a gurgling noise and went limp, and that was him for at least a few minutes. It gave Molly the time and self control to pay the man and not choke him out too. He was still performing, he had to remember. Couldn’t lose his head. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he said, all smiles. 

“Fuckin’ freak,” the man muttered, palming the gold. 

Yasha grabbed Molly’s bicep and held him in place. Absolutely unnecessary. He wasn’t going to try anything, not while he was being nice, friendly Mollymauk, easy with money and willing to turn the other cheek, just wanted to get out of this hellhole and somewhere a little more tasteful. 

He went down first and Yasha followed him, maneuvering her baggage carefully around doorways, out into the open air. It was another block and a half before Molly let the mask drop. Anything less and he would have gone back. 

_ “Fuck.”  _ He growled in infernal, and a bit of flame curled out of his mouth. 

Yasha raised an eyebrow, keeping pace next to him. 

He brushed his hair back from his face and forced himself to settle. “Fine. I’m fine. Thank you. This would have been a good deal harder without you along for backup.” 

“How did you know where to find him?” she asked. 

“Obviously I didn’t, or we would have been home hours ago.” The question stood, though. It was a good one. How did he know? “Widogast. The name’s been bothering me since I met him. I thought it might be a coincidence, until he started disappearing for days at a time. That’s more your act.” 

She didn’t laugh. 

Right. “It’s a Zemnian drug. Moon dust, essentially moon sugar boiled down with a couple fun additives to make it work faster. Colloquially known as Witwenmatcher, in certain circles. Widowmaker. Very hard on the body. Not easy on the coin purse, either, now I think about it. I’d put money on our friend here having come back from death, or very near it, at least once, if he calls himself a Widow ghast.” 

“Interesting.” 

“Anyway, took a couple guesses from there and asked around. Eight hours later, here we are.” 

“Here we are,” she agreed. “Where are we going?” 

“The come down isn’t a fun time for anyone. It’ll be easiest, slightly less painful anyway, at home in bed with someone nearby to keep an eye on him. I’m just a touch worried about whether or not the others will see this in as generous a light as we do. We might have to sneak him in. How subtle do you think you can be, getting into the tavern?”

“How subtle do  _ you  _ think I could be?” 

She wasn’t a quiet presence on her own, and carrying someone almost as tall as her, if not nearly as broad, she stood out like a sore thumb. Morning traffic was slow around them as people paused to gawk at the freak show making its way through the city. If Molly didn’t make his living on being stared at he might have found it disquieting. “Fair point. Where else could we take him to wait this out? Bath house?”

“You think they’ll let him in?” Yasha asked. On her back, Caleb was starting to stir, lolling his head around and trying to see where he ended up. 

Molly shrugged. “I don’t know. My plan extended as far as finding him, hopefully alive. I’m making the rest up as we speak. Steam’s Respite has been unusually accepting of our various… weirdness,” was one word for it. “The worst they can say is no, right?” 

“Right,” she nodded, pretending to believe him. The worst they could do was call the guard and have all three of them arrested for drug use and kidnapping, but that was a distant possibility, honestly. They would be fine, and if they weren’t, they would figure it out. 

“Hey, hi, hello,” who was Mollymauk to these people? It had been over a week since his last bath, and if he didn’t feel every day of it, and he’d all but forgotten what kind of reputation he carried in this establishment. He felt his face twitching as he swapped between masks and moods, trying to decide. Polite. Wealthy. Not to be trifled with. That was enough to get him in the door. “I don’t suppose your steam room is open yet, is it?” 

“It… is. Andre is just finishing getting the coals hot, and we can start the steam any time. Do you need… Is he okay?” She looked past him to Caleb, limp in Yasha’s grip and shivering occasionally. Getting him warmed up was a priority. Not putting him somewhere he could drown if he passed out was a slightly lower priority. 

“Drunker than he wants to be, had a rough night,” Molly explained. Ooh, that was a good excuse, very legal. Build on that. Who is this strange man? What’s his story? “I’m trying to get him cleaned up a bit before we take him home to the missus. He just needs to sweat it out a bit, and then we’ll be out of your hair. How much for the steam room?” 

“Two silver per person per hour. Are you sure? He looks half dead.” 

“He’s a bloody lightweight who lost a drinking contest. It’s a wonder he’s not dead, honestly,” he let the story tell itself, unfolding into something she could swallow without having to suspend any disbelief. “Now, that’s six silver an hour? I think we can manage that.” 

A deep shudder wracked Caleb and he made an unpleasant heaving noise. 

“If he pukes, it’s an extra charge,” the receptionist warned. 

Lie. Just one more good bluff, just enough to get in the door. “He’ll be fine, looks worse than he is. How about two hours for the three of us, and if we stay longer I’ll pay the difference on the way out.” She wanted his money more than she wanted information. If he kept coming back to that she would take it eventually. He was pretty flush after their last job and could afford a luxury like paying someone else to clean up vomit. 

“I’ve marked down what time you got here,” the receptionist said. 

Of course she did. “Absolutely fair. Which way to the steam room?” 

“Changing rooms are the last door on the right, steam room is the one before that.” 

“Thank you ever so much. Yasha?”

“Got him. C’mon Caleb. Let’s get you somewhere warm.” 

  
  


The changing room presented its own share of problems. Caleb was in no state to get himself undressed. He could barely move in the first place, and was starting to go into withdrawals on top of that. Deep shivers shook him to his core and nearly made Yasha drop him a couple times. 

Fast, like cauterizing a wound, Molly decided. He manhandled him out of that filthy coat and shirt and made sure he didn’t hit the ground when cold air shocked his system. Yasha grabbed him around his middle and Molly held his shoulders while he shook and cursed. 

He pulled his boots off as well and his nose wrinkled involuntarily. Did Caleb own more than one pair of socks? One had stuck to the inside of his boot and came off with it, and the other was more hole than cloth, bunched up around his ankle. 

“Fuck you,” Caleb slurred and tried to stand, to get away, but collapsed before he could get his legs under him. 

“Yeah, fuck me. Not trying to make this any easier or anything. Or would you rather wait this out outside in an alley somewhere?” Molly asked. Caleb had to understand that this wasn’t a delight for him either. He’d imagined undressing him being fun and flirty, with Caleb ripping off as many clothes as he lost. What came after, when his frankly overactive imagination wandered that far afield, was no one’s business but Molly’s, and he definitely wasn’t thinking about it when he was fumbling with the buttons on an angry, feverish Caleb’s trousers. 

Get it together, Tealeaf. You’re better than this. 

“I was fine. You could have just left me. I would have been fine.” 

“Tonight, maybe. Next time, probably. But eventually  _ something  _ would have happened, and then what?” Oh good, his voice didn’t even crack. Molly had spent the entire night searching, praying to whatever gods would listen that he found him alive and in one piece. 

“I can handle myself,” Caleb snapped. Of course he could. 

“Of course you can,” Yasha said. She had just a little less filter and just a little more confidence in her ability to tell the truth. 

“I  _ can.” _

“Until you can’t. Then what?” she asked. 

What was Molly’s face doing? Was it as stricken as his heart, or had he managed to keep a mask on? No one was looking at him like he’d grown a second set of horns, so he must have been fine. “Then I have to explain to the others why you didn’t come home. I have to explain to Nott why you’re never coming back, why you left her alone.” His worst fear, being the bearer of bad news. 

Well, the worst fear he would admit to. 

Caleb looked like he was about to cry, vomit, or both. “Don’t,” he rasped. 

“Let’s get him warmed up,” Molly said to Yasha. “It’s only going to get worse.” There was so much more for him to get through, and throwing up on the changing room floor wasn’t going to help. 

“Just stop,” Caleb begged.

“No.” 

_ “Stop.”  _

Molly grabbed him by the chin and held his face up, inches from his own. Caleb was an open book, and all that was written was pain, desperation, and need. Molly felt that pain, knew that want, and had experienced the same desperate need for help that Caleb was drowning in. “I’m not leaving you alone right now, so stow it,” he said, the final word on the subject. 

The hallway was even colder than the changing room, but the steam room was already comfortably warm and damp. Dry heat usually felt better on Molly’s skin, but this wasn’t about him. He and Yasha got Caleb propped up between them on a bench and settled in to wait it out. The shivering subsided as he started to sweat it out, get it out of his system. His breathing didn’t sound great, but it honestly hadn’t all morning. Moon dust really wasn’t easy on the body.

“Hey, stay with me,” Molly said. Caleb’s eyes were starting to roll and he looked like he was on the verge of passing out. 

“You’re a bastard.” 

Ouch. “I’m not the one who put you like this, you know.” 

“You could have left me,” Caleb slurred. 

Was he still on this? Yes, he could have, if he never wanted to see him again. The thought squeezed his chest like a vice, and he shook his head to force it out. “I honestly, genuinely couldn’t have. Yes, you probably would have survived, but if you hadn’t, if your body were tossed out on the street today, how could I possibly live with myself knowing I found you and left you there to die? How would I explain to our friends where I last saw you and in what state? What would they think of me?” 

“Shut. Up.” Caleb grit out.

“Alright, I’ll save the monologue for later. You do have to stay awake though.” He’d found him. He’d gotten him somewhere safe. That was enough, no thanks needed for his good deed of the day. 

“Are you okay?” Yasha asked when Molly took Caleb’s hand. It had been twitching while he slept, mumbling under his breath, and his palm was starting to blacken with arcane ash. Better that he didn’t get a chance to burn the bath house down around their ears. They would probably have to pay for it. Heat splashed into his palm and he held it without flinching. It was just a little fire. Nothing special.

“Honestly? No. I haven’t slept, I’ve done a grand tour of the worst parts of the city, and I’ve been sitting in a pool of my own sweat for the last hour,” he said. 

“Do you… want to talk about it?” she tried. 

“Not particularly.” 

They fell quiet for a moment. Molly didn’t realize he was rubbing his thumb over Caleb’s knuckles until Yasha tried the conversation again. “I know you... care about him.”

“Care is a very strong word for how I feel about Caleb,” he lied. Crap. Crap crap crap. Was he really that transparent? “Feel responsible for, maybe. Recognize that he doesn’t stand a chance without some kind of help, definitely. There may or may not be some attraction there, but that’s honestly beside the point.” Shut up. For fuck’s sake, Tealeaf, she didn’t ask for your life story. 

The heat must have been getting to her, because she laughed at his word vomit and it sounded almost genuine. “He’s your type.” 

“I don’t have a  _ type _ ,” Molly snipped. 

“Tall,” she pointed out. 

“Not hard to be taller than me,” he countered. 

“Damaged,” she continued. 

“Everyone has damage. I defy you to find me a single person in this city who doesn’t have some vice they’re enslaved to, some skeleton in their closet, some darkness in their life they don’t want in the papers.” 

“Powerful.” 

“Wow, you’ve got me. You’ve seen straight through me to the core of my being. I’m in love with a dirty, broke, nearly friendless human with a drug problem for the  _ power.  _ Any other flawless insights while we’re at it?” 

“You’re still holding his hand,” she pointed out. 

Damn it. “He was starting to cast something. Something with fire. I’m only holding his hand still to stop him burning this place to the ground.” 

“Okay.” 

“Now, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, drop it. Alright?” 

“Alright.” 

Caleb shifted around in his sleep and ended up cuddled precariously against Yasha’s shoulder. She let it happen, or maybe just didn’t notice that he was one bad twitch from face planting directly into her lap. Molly was half holding his breath, waiting for a snore or snort to unbalance him and start the chain reaction. Yasha dealt with being touched by pretending it wasn’t happening, but there was a sharp limit to how much she could ignore. If Caleb managed to mash his face into anything sensitive, he would be on the floor and probably missing pieces. 

He was waiting for nothing, though, because after two hours of sweating, twitching, and muttering under his breath, and only one more weak fireball directly into Molly’s palm, Caleb coughed himself awake with a wheezing start. He let his hand go and elbowed him in the ribs on accident, trying to get at least a half foot away from him so he didn’t have to explain why their hips were touching. Yasha watched him scramble away with a raised eyebrow, but kept quiet about it while Caleb caught his breath and looked around. 

“How do we feel?” Molly asked from a reasonable distance. 

“Better. I think that was the worst of it.” He tried to get the hair out of his eyes and failed miserably. He looked like a ginger sheep dog pawing at his face, and gave up after a couple tries. “What time is it?” 

“Not a bloody clue. We’ve been here maybe three hours,” Molly explained. 

“Closer to three and a half,” Yasha said. 

“Scheisse,” Caleb swore. 

Why, Molly had no idea. It wasn’t like the group had anything planned, and they didn’t exactly keep track of each other on their off days. “You think that’s bad, we’ve been up all night trying to find you. At least you got a couple naps in.” 

“If you want to go home and sleep you can. I can find my own way back.” 

Molly shook his head. If it were that easy it wouldn’t be worth the going on twelve hours he’d spent on this stupid quest. “Nope. We’re talking about this. This isn’t the first time you’ve been out all night. Same thing every time, or did you just get a craving to destroy yourself tonight?” 

“It’s not… It isn’t like that.” At least he had the good sense to sound embarrassed. He wasn’t too far gone. They could still fix this. 

“‘Cause let me tell you, you looked real comfortable on the floor back there, real familiar with the whole song and dance of it.” That half a minute where he didn’t know if Caleb was alive or dead would be burned into Molly’s mind for years. He might never get rid of it. He had mostly come to terms with and buried the roiling emotions that seeing Caleb still and silent on the floor had stirred in him, but he wasn’t going to forget it in a hurry. 

“It’s really not that big a deal,” he said quietly. 

“I don’t think you understand. It is that big a deal, actually, because this isn’t Zemnia. This is the Empire, my friend, and the Empire doesn’t allow the free use of exotic alchemy by anyone who can afford half a pound of moon sugar and some glassware. There are  _ laws  _ here, genius.” He wanted to hit him, wanted desperately to bash some sense into Caleb’s thick skull. If it worked that way he would have already done it. As it was, he settled for rapping two knuckles against his temple and growling at him. 

“I know that,” Caleb said, flinching away. “I know there are consequences if I am caught, for me and for the team. I always make sure I am alone. I get a room somewhere else, leave a paper trail that won’t lead back to all of you. If I go down, I go down alone.” Oh good. He wasn’t completely brainless.

“Fair thought, thanks for the consideration, but that’s really not the point I was aiming for with that little speech. Point being, and this is important, so listen closely, you  _ can’t get  _ the kind of high quality moon dust you buy on every street corner in Zemnia here in the glorious Empire, and you definitely can’t get it in a flop house in the slums. Everything interesting in this country was smuggled past a border or cooked in some backroom by an amateur in the middle of the night, and all of it is cut with something. You’re lucky that whatever you smoked back there didn’t kill you, because it was  _ not _ pure widowmaker in your pipe, my friend.” 

There was a long, horrible pause where Caleb stared at nothing in the silence that followed Molly’s rant. Yasha leveled a cool gaze over Caleb’s back, looking straight through Molly. She was right, honestly. What right did he have to say anything? What high horse was he pretending to ride? 

“Schiesse,” Caleb whispered, breaking the silence. 

“Welcome to the Empire. No fun allowed.” 

“So what do I do?” 

Honestly, Molly had no idea. This wasn’t a simple problem, and it wasn’t going to have an easy solution. “Different question. We’ll come back to that in a minute,” he deflected, borrowing time. “What’s different now?”

“How do you mean?”

“You were fine in Trostenwald. No problems in Allfield. Then we get to Zadash and you go on three benders in two weeks. What changed?” Molly’s money was on something to do with the slow, creeping horror of burning someone alive getting to him. The first kill was always the hardest,and his had been exceptionally gruesome. Some people never got over it. 

“I have money now,” he said, laughing. 

“That’s really it?” Yasha asked. “Money is the only problem?” 

“I can afford five gold a night a couple times a week when I am making  _ a hundred gold a week _ . This is more money that I have ever, than I ever thought I would make in my life. I don’t know what to do with it all, and then my poison of choice is here, and I… slip. I stop thinking about what could go wrong and am so focused on what feels good, and it is less than a quarter of what I make working with all of you. I have money for my magic and for my habit, and to eat, and stay somewhere with a roof. I have never had that before.”

Molly and Yasha shared a look over his back. Wasn’t that a familiar story. How many mornings had Molly woken up broke and alone and had to hustle back to the circus with a hangover to pack up and get moving or risk being left behind? How many times had Yasha scraped him off some floor or another and dragged him back over her shoulder? Once he figured out the trick of reading cards and started making real money he’d had coin to burn, and it took him a year and change to learn he didn’t have to get rid of every silver he made as soon as it was in his pocket. 

“I could beat you up every time you get high,” Yasha offered. 

“Makes it much less fun, trust me,” Molly added. Being punched in the stomach until he threw up whatever he’d taken had given him an appreciation for Yasha’s strength and dedication, and an ulcer. 

It made Caleb laugh, so that was one plan that had worked as intended today, at least. 

“Or,” Yasha said.

“Or we could steal his coin purse and leave him high and dry. No money for drugs, no drugs, no problem.” 

“Nott gives me money when I ask for it. She always has plenty.” There went that plan. Nott wouldn’t be nearly as receptive to giving up her gold for the greater good. “And also how would you explain that you two are robbing me to the rest of the group?” 

“Oh, we’re absolutely telling them where we found you this morning. Whole family gets to know what kind of demons you’re dealing with.” 

Caleb went pale. His hands twitched and trembled, and Molly got ready to catch another fireball. “Don’t,” he rasped. “Don’t tell them. I can manage this without them knowing.” 

Ooh, that was interesting. Someone had a secret, and secrets were worth a lot more than gold. Stealing his money, beating him black and blue, giving him social support, those were thoughts. This was a  _ plan,  _ just starting to form in Molly’s mind. “Oh, and we have found our  _ motivation.”  _

“Please,” he begged. “I will do anything. Just keep this quiet.” 

A smile stretched Molly’s face. It was like Caleb  _ wanted  _ him to use this. “Damn right you will.” 

“Please,” he begged, and Molly’s heart shattered. He kept the grin, though. He was still on stage. Caleb was desperate, and desperate people could be bent into doing a lot. 

“My,  _ our _ ,” he met Yasha’s eyes around Caleb and she nodded, “silence is conditional on this being your final performance. No more long nights out, no more disappearing for two days at a time, no more moon sugar or any of its wonderful, horrible derivatives. If you try this noise and nonsense one more time, it all comes out in front of everyone, the full monty, and we let them make their own decisions of what to do about it. Does that sound fair?” 

Caleb watched him do his bit, an enraptured, captive audience, and when he was done hung his head like he wanted to cry. He didn’t, but he looked like he would if he could. 

“Sounds fair to me,” Yasha said, breaking a terribly awkward silence. 

“I hate you,” Caleb muttered. He just sounded tired. Not angry, not like there was any remorse in his heart, just bone deep exhausted. 

Molly ignored it. He didn’t mean any of it. And if it worked, he would take being hated over losing someone any day. His circus smile stayed in place and he said, “The feeling is entirely mutual. Ready to go get rinsed off? You are truly disgusting right now.” 

“Fick dich.” Zemnian, so you know he really meant it.

“Love you too. C’mon. Think you can get up?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bugger, Mollymauk is a fun headspace to write in. Let me Know what you thought of the chapter and the work as a whole.

**Author's Note:**

> comment if you liked it and you might get more as I continue to listen. Feed me with attention, pls.


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